


Seeing Red

by imaginedandreal



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Jealousy, Smut, throwback fic, throwback week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-29
Updated: 2019-05-29
Packaged: 2020-03-29 11:39:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19019167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imaginedandreal/pseuds/imaginedandreal
Summary: Tessa has an unexpected reaction to watching Scott do an Armani photoshoot.





	Seeing Red

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys! I'm so glad to contribute to our fandom's throwback. This fic can either be read as a standalone, or as a companion fic to my old fic, "Red Riding Boots" (yep the one where Tessa kept her red boots from her Vogue shoot😉)
> 
> Jealousy, fluffy emotion...and sweet, sweet lovin' await you. Happy reading!

_ Jealousy will drive you mad. _

What a damn truth, Tessa thought, feeling herself seethe so hard, she was shocked how she didn’t burn a hole through  _ them  _ with her own eyes. As much as she never thought herself to be the jealous type, it was the last straw. It was torture seeing  _ that girl  _ preening and giggling, glancing and smiling and even  _ touching.  _ Her husband. Her Scott. Quite simply, someone else’s man, and that girl, who clearly was patting herself on the back for tripling Scott’s sexiness (with her styling abilities),  _ that girl  _ was one step away from actually flirting. In front of Scott’s wife, Tessa Jane Virtue Moir. His lawful and legal wife. All things considered, Tessa had absolutely nothing bad to say about the girl as a person, but she had everything bad to say about the girl’s, the stylist’s, overstepping of the boundaries when it came to other women’s husbands. 

She tacked on her best media smile throughout - and, to be completely fair, Scott was hotter than all the levels of hell. What was it about a well-tailored suit that made him sexier than actual sheer nakedness, and made her want to devour him, even as she was pissed at the stylist girl? (What the hell was her name? Lisa? Linda?) Even Tessa’s burning jealousy was momentarily forgotten, her eyes roaming all over that delicious man of hers. But at the end, Lisa-Linda smiled...and batted her goddamn eyelashes.

“Thank you  _ oh-so-much,  _ Scott. It was great to work with you tonight.” The girl’s beguiling facial expression was as if she was thanking him for something else wholly unrelated to work. Why the hell did she say ‘tonight,’ too? Couldn’t she just have picked a less suggestive word, or skipped it completely? Would it have killed her to not inject a bedroom tone into her voice?

“You too, Lauren,” Scott replied to that, smiling back. Shit.  _ Shit.  _ The smile. The Moir Charm-signature smile. Not for Tessa, not even for a regular old fan they might have met. For Lisa-Linda-Lauren, who most certainly didn’t deserve it. And who most certainly didn’t have the right to pat him on his goddamn bicep. Tessa could agree to the sexiness, the sinewy, sculpted strength of that bicep, but that was  _ she, _ and she was incomparable to all the Armani stylists of the world. And why, why did Scott clearly take care to remember her name? Was it common courtesy, or something worse?

Tessa burned with helpless anger. Nausea rose up in her stomach, at the sinking feeling of betrayal. Here she was, admiring his gorgeous looks during the shoot, planning to seduce him in one of her newest pieces of lingerie, and he was pulling this shit on her. She was almost sure that he wasn’t doing it on purpose, and a fleeting impulse of guilt and embarrassment about being irrationally jealous, like a thirteen year-old over her first crush, did enter her mind. She shook it off just as quickly. 

He. Will. Pay. For forgetting that they belonged to each other, and each other only. 

And when Tessa Jane Virtue Moir decided someone was to pay, pay he would.

Freaking handsomely. Pun very much intended.

 

Scott had no idea what came over Tessa. She was so uncommonly sullen and monosyllabic, all the drive back home from the photoshoot. He himself thought it had gone well - he liked the outfits, liked the makeup, and he was secretly proud of himself to show his wife that he still very much had it, in terms of being alluring for her. Of course, she never needed photoshoots with him in fancy clothes to desire him, nor did he require the same to be ridiculously attracted to his beloved T. The photoshoot had been fun, and it was a decision that he’d made with her help and advice - so he was all the more baffled as to why she looked so upset all of a sudden, once it was over.

*

At home, Tessa gives him no more than a grumpy glare in response when he tells her about going to shower before they make dinner. She plops down to curl up on their bed with an unreadable expression, and he files it away to discuss later. He does hesitate a bit, but ends up kissing the top of her head gently once, to at least try to mollify her bad mood, as dark and heavy as the rainstorm pouring outside. No response from her graces his gesture. Sighing internally, he goes to take his shower, mentally rehearsing the gentle coaxing for her to share what’s troubling her, which he will attempt later.

Except when Scott leaves the shower and walks into the bedroom, Tessa’s nowhere to be found. The lights are off, and only candles on every surface illuminate the dark space. Where is she?

A flash of lightning and a roar of thunder outside the window interrupt his bewilderment. 

A pair of hands in satin gloves grab him around the neck from behind. Yelping in shock, he instinctively yanks the hands off himself, and whips around. 

There’s Tessa, clad in a red silky robe that he hadn’t known she owns. His own belt that he discarded when undressing for the shower dangles from her hand. Heart pounding, Scott stares, wide-eyed, into her stern face. The only time she ever looked so harsh, so... _ enticing, _ was during the Carmen period in their lives. Hell, Tessa skating as Carmen was almost a shy little wallflower compared to this woman in front of him, both an interrogator and a temptress. 

Scott swallows involuntarily, watching her raise a cool eyebrow. 

“T?” he tries. He finds his throat is very dry, and, with a strange helplessness, realizes that he can’t do anything to stop himself from getting hard. He stands there like a misbehaving student, waiting for the teacher’s scolding, if students ever stood before their instructors in only boxer briefs.

Tessa examines him, losing none of her austere demeanor. “So when are you going to ‘fess up?” Her voice isn’t loud, but is obviously a demand and not a question.

He blinks. “T, what are you - what have I done - I haven’t done any-”

“Don’t fucking lie!” she explodes, loudly enough to cover another clap of thunder, and  _ \- crack! -  _  swings his belt in the air. Scott watches, mute and astonished, as the thick leather lashes her square across the calf. 

_ “Shit!!!  _ What the... _ oww, fuck,”  _ Tessa screeches, dropping the belt and sinking to the floor. She clutches and rubs at her injured leg, hissing with pain. In spite of his continued lack of comprehension of all her behavior the past few hours, Scott hurries to her side. He sits on the floor next to her, stroking her shoulders tentatively.

“Oh, Tess. Talk to me. What did I do, babe? I honestly don’t know, but if I did anything wrong, tell me what it is, and I’ll fix it,” he soothes, fighting an endeared chuckle, but still full of concern at the sight of her scrunched-up expression, as she tries to get her accidentally self-inflicted hurt to subside. Moreover, he doesn’t understand what wrongdoing would warrant her sexy lingerie and (failed, so far) attempt to discipline him with his own clothing detail. Last he remembered, they didn’t agree to or plan any role-playing, either, in the recent past. Or at all, really.

In a flash, just like the lightning splitting the sky outside, she reverts to aggression, and he can’t even catch the moment when she scrambles up and loops the belt around his neck.

“Oh, you don’t know now, do you?” Her voice is  _ angry,  _ and it doesn’t just sound like she plays a character of some bedroom game. “What about Lauren? Does she know?” 

For good measure, Tessa tugs on the belt around his neck, and Scott feels at once a ridiculous desire to laugh and to kiss that luscious pink mouth, but also a shiver of fear because, well, there’s a belt around his neck that has every possibility of becoming a noose for him.

“Answer me, damn it!” Another tug from her. The lump in his throat at her determination to get...whatever information she’s after in no way makes his bizarre arousal subside, though. It’s absolutely laughable, during the whole of it, that his boner  _ still  _ is there, alive and well. He can’t believe that it’s possible to be confounded, scared, and madly turned on all at the same dizzying time. 

“Wh-what?”

“Why did you flirt with that Lauren chick in front of me? Tell me, and you better not lie,” Tessa snaps, her eyes shooting green fire right into his own eyes. And his groin. 

Lauren, Lauren...he doesn’t know a Lauren, Scott thinks, all but squirming under the heat of her stare, but the name still weirdly rings a bell. Wait.

“Yeah. The one who  _ thanked _ you for working with her tonight,” Tessa spits, sarcastically, still clutching him. “Who the fuck does she think she is? Why didn’t you stop her?”

Ah. Lightbulb.  _ That  _ Lauren.

“Stop her from what, T?” Scott smiles, speaking as evenly as a person with a belt around their neck is able to. “She didn’t do anything. I didn’t notice anything like that.”

Now that he knows what caused this little improv, he can’t help but think that Tessa is  _ insanely  _ adorable when she’s jealous. Yes, even if she’s this close to murdering her husband via asphyxiation.

“Like hell you didn’t! You used your special fucking Moir smile on her!” she hisses, her fingers holding the belt ever tighter. But he’s steadily gazing at her, willing her to believe that she misunderstood. He had absolutely no intention of making Lauren - or Tessa -  think he was flirting.

Scott resists rolling his eyes at her. “Believe me, you can strangle me right here and right now, but nothing will change. There’s no flirting between me and Lauren. Not earlier, and absolutely not later.” He places his hands over her gloved ones, stroking them to support his words, but also to try and get her to take the damn belt off his neck already. “There’s no one I want to flirt with, to  _ love, _ but you, T.”

Tessa’s eyes blink momentarily, looking at him as he does his best to convince her. That and the way her fingers uncurl a smidge from holding him in his trap tell Scott that her resolve is slowly but surely beginning to waver.

_ Okay. Showtime. Let’s reinforce that result.  _

He has to admit, moving one of his hands to gently sit at her waist (a safe location for now), the look of her - especially in this so blatantly seductive get-up - is doing things to him, and not only of the erection-inducing variety. He’s fascinated and charmed by the displays of her love, which yes, include accidentally comical and awkward and messy and such sincere ones as this. Tessa loves him, just as much as he loves her, but she’s still (somewhere there in her head) scared to lose him. Just like she had the previous times, now half-hidden in the past. That explains everything perfectly, he thinks. 

“Are you attracted to someone else?” 

Her voice is so quiet and naked and  _ sensitive _ as it interrupts his inner monologue. It’s not an accusation, it’s her aching and overflowing heart asking it, he realizes.  Chasing away those sadder musings, Scott softens his expression deliberately, no matter what she just asked is absurd - and yet, he will treat her question with the utmost care and respect, to make her believe every word he is about to say.

“Never. Tess, I might talk and smile to someone, I might even  _ look _ like I’m flirting…” Her mouth opens a fraction, but he places a light, gentle finger on it, and she stops. “But that can’t be further from the truth. I promise you, just like I did in front of our family and friends two years ago, that you’re absolutely, uniquely, the one and only woman that I will love today, and from this day forward.”

Her eyes shimmer, reflecting the soft light of the candles, and Scott knows she’s heard him. He’d literally quoted some of his vows from their wedding, after all. But they remain true, no matter the time that passed and will pass. He loves her. He loves his wife, his Tess, his T, his Virtch, though he’s now proud to say that she shares his last name. He loves the woman that is so passionate and talented, brilliant and funny, kind, loving, and strong, and so vulnerable under all of it. And he has the utmost privilege to see this raw vulnerability of hers, the true  _ her  _ that she is only ever ready to expose in front of him alone. 

“Do you believe me?” He holds his breath, delivering the final move, but is it really a move when his heart beats  _ love T love T love T,  _ at any moment every day?

The mask of the queen-seductress falls off Tessa’s face. “I believe you, Scott,” she finally whispers back. There’s a sheepish apology in her gaze, mixed in with sweet emotion, but he wants to remedy that. She has nothing at all to be sorry for, and he’ll make sure she knows.

“Can I kiss you now?”

A little smile flashes around her mouth. “Where?” Now, her tone is all playfulness and invitation. Oh, how he wants to R.S.V.P. to that invitation. 

He’s still very conscious of the chafing leather around his neck, and he couldn’t care less, at the same time. “Everywhere.”

Tessa’s genuine, bright, unsarcastic smile is the last thing he sees before she plunges to close the distance between their faces. 

 

Tessa has never been happier to have a plan backfire in her life.

She’s relieved. Relieved, grateful, and stupidly in love, heart hammering with it and mind whirling at the affirmation that Scott just gave her.

Now, as his tongue gently brushes her mouth open, to flick inside and taste her, she calls herself stupid, so stupid within her mind, for even suspecting him of any flirtations with some other woman. A man who kisses her like she’s a goddess in human form, like his very soul is kissing hers, couldn’t possibly have been trying to offend her, she chastises herself. She forgets all about holding him fast at her mercy and lets go the belt with which she was trapping him to sink her fingers into his hair. That releases both the warm scent of his freshly-washed locks, and a hoarse sigh of pleasure from him. Tessa wants to giggle, actually giggle like a giddy girl in love, so she gives in to that urge. That breaks their kiss. They look at each other, both already breathing hard, all wide smiles and flushed cheeks. 

“Did you mean it? You’ll never flirt with anyone else?”

It’s irrelevant and has nothing to do with what they’d already begun, but it slips out of her mouth anyway. Scott takes that in stride, nevertheless. His palms are impossibly tender, caressing her cheeks, fingers stroking along her ears.

“Of course I meant it. Just like you probably meant to kill my ass there for a second, Satine.” Warm, adoring humor dances in his hazel irises.

She frowns, sitting up straight again. No, she wants to break that stupid character. She’s so, so regretful at being so petty and dramatic. It’s not a game for her, and she doesn’t want to role-play. 

“Not Satine. I’m not Satine. I’m Tessa. I’m so sorry for all this circus. You know I’d never hit you, much less with a belt. I just thought - never mind. Forget it. I’m Tessa and I want you to be Scott. No one else. I don’t want you to ever change,” she rambles feverishly.

“Hey, hey, T,” Scott mirrors her frown, and his fingers brush at her cheeks until she’s surprised like he is to find that he’s wiping stray tears from her skin. “Look at me. I promise you, I’m Scott, and I’ll always be your Scott.  _ Yours.  _ I, Scott, love you, Tessa,” he takes one of her hands, pulls her satin glove off, and places it on his bare chest, right over the strong beat of his heart.

“I’m so sorry for being angry,” she says quietly, glad that at least the stupid tears stopped. She likes the feeling of his skin under her palm. She wants to kiss him again. And then more than kiss. Mischief returns to Scott’s face, as he takes off her other glove and raises her hand to brush his lips across her knuckles.

“Well, you can keep being angry at me…” His touch slips under her robe as he lets her hands go. “Or you can give me a chance to prove my love to you.”

The way they meet in another kiss, Tessa hopes it translates to him as her choosing to not be angry and let him ‘prove his love.’ She kisses him harder, pushing her tongue to meet his with more intent, and finally tossing the very unneeded belt off his shoulders. The thud contrasts with the barest  _ swish  _ of her robe as it, too, slides off her shoulders, per Scott’s fingers coaxing it off. He murmurs something against the side of her neck when they break their kiss, and proceeds to leave soft, damp little pecks on her skin. That alone makes her erupt with goosebumps. She strokes her hands all over him, everywhere she can: his strong shoulders and arms, the smooth, hard planes of his chest and torso.

Without any ceremonies, Scott helps her stand and they move to the bed, their clothes and accessories forgotten. It’s not about that, not about the elaborate theatrics to ‘spice it up in bed.’ It’s only about the two of them, Tessa thinks. Her hand collides with his when she moves to help him take off his underwear, and it makes them chuckle, as they pull the briefs off together. She touches his exposed erection for a moment, but he shakes his head.

“Later. All about you now, babe.”

The next thing she knows is his mouth on her. Reverent and ardent in equal measure, he kisses her neck, oh-so-slowly making the journey down to her chest. She shivers and gasps when, having mouthed at her freckles, he dips lower and captures a nipple between his lips.

_ “Oh, Scott,”  _ she sighs. Her hands clutch his head close to her and caress his soft hair, as he suckles her softly, palming the other breast. It’s not the first time whatsoever, but to her, it’s just as fraught with wonderful sensation as if it were. She gasps out a soft exclamation when he switches breasts, his palm now moving still further down, rubbing her abdomen, teasing at her navel with its piercing. She feels herself pulse wetly between her legs and is consumed with a craving for him inside her. Or of his mouth and fingers on and in her. Or both, in whichever order. She’s not quite so picky as to favor one above the other. 

Scott pauses his lavishing of her chest with attention to glance up, his grin both a smirk and a smile. “That good?”

She glares at him, none of the jealousy, but all the hungry impatience. “Stop teasing.” Her voice is husky to her ears. How can he not hear that her patience is wearing thin, and be so methodically seductive, she doesn’t know.  _ Hurry up. I’m sort of dying of lust right here. _ But if this means he’s doing that deliberately, in payback for her silly accusations, Tessa can take a bit of torment. His eyes are so pointedly innocent - and so wicked.

“Me? Teasing? Think again.”

With that, he puts his lips back on her body, to trace them down to her waist, and onwards. She whimpers at the feeling of his tongue on her piercing, his fingers smoothing their way over her hips, gently moving her legs apart. When his mouth reaches her folds, finally, at last, the sensation reverberates all over her. She chokes out a moan, then another, and another, arching against the bed, widening the gap of her thighs to give him more access. He laps and sucks, kisses and licks, over and over; then traps her clit between his lips and pulls hard, as she clenches and trembles, consumed with wanting more, with having him never stop.

Her back arches higher, a louder, hungrier groan out of her as he continues to suck on her through the climax; sweeping his palms against her hips and thighs as she slowly comes to her senses, and calms down, for the most part.

Tessa’s trembling. Every muscle and inch of her skin is singing. She’s just able to break through her daze enough to stretch her arm down and clasp his hand. Scott’s smirk hadn’t changed, and he looks absolutely devilish with accomplishment.

“Did that convince you of my love, T?” 

Scott squeezes her hand, looking at her with fondness, from where he’s sat up. Tessa gives him a tiny wink, pretending to ponder that.

“Hmm...that was quite a start. But I don’t think I’m fully sold yet.”

She sits as well, to wrap her arms around his neck and kiss him to wordlessly thank him, and she doesn’t even care that he tastes like her, but she’s so ready for more. And, by the feel of him hard under her flesh, he’s as ready as he’ll ever be, for his own part.

When Tessa pulls him up and onto her, and he sinks inside her body, a shudder of completeness passes through her. She’s her own person, of course, just as Scott is, and yet...Whenever he’s inside her, so hard and deliciously thick, it’s a remarkable different type of wholeness that she feels. They move as one, rocking back and forth, kissing over and over, until their pleasure crests and they can no longer refrain from gasping together, moaning into each other’s mouths.

She wants to tell him he feels amazing, heavenly, but a groan is all that can come out of her. She’s lost for words, from the pleasure and love.

“Love you,” he pants, breath hot and quick against her shoulder. “Love you, love you, love you -” The erratic rhythm into which he slips tells her that he’s so close, and so is she, shaking harder, clutching his shoulders tighter. She’s the first to come, hard and gushing, tiny ripples making her contract around him. He spills right into her, a curse word lost among the murmuring of her name.

 

They stay curled up around each other. Tessa burrows her face into Scott’s neck, content at being in his arms, inhaling him.

He laughs softly. “To think that we could have had such amazing sex in the past, if only I’d flirted with a few stylists.”

She takes a sharp breath, swatting at his back, as if scandalized by the idea. “Scott Patrick, no flirting with stylists, you scoundrel.” His eyes are full of love, though, that tells her she can safely not fear that possibility. 

“To be honest, I was kind of scared for a bit when you busted out that belt,” he cracks, poking her in the nose. Tessa raises her eyebrows.

“That belt is still fair game for next time,” she quips. Yet, their shared laugh ensures her that, no matter what surprises they do get up to next time, all of them will be carried out with the truest love.

  
  



End file.
